They stand in front of the grave, Three people in blue, Two men and a woman, Here to mourn. The rain pours down, Mingling with tears, The weather matches the mood, Of these three. They are crying for a man, The leader of their gang, He was a wonderful man to them, His name was Teseng. There are three of them in all, A bald man with tinted glasses, A man with wild red hair, A woman eyes cold blonde hair waving in the wind. The bald man comes first, He approaches the grave, Tears coming down his face, His eyes on the tombstone. He thinks of his friend, Laying in the ground, Leaning down he drops, Something that reminds the man of a girl. It is a flower, A small pink one, From the garden where Tseng’s friend once lived, He will dream and meet the girl. When the man steps back the red head steps forward, He too bends and leaves a gift, It is a small bottle, With red, blonde in it. A lock of red hair, a long lock of blonde, For the man that took them in, And whether they know it or not, Saved them from death’s clutches. That man steps back and the woman comes forward, Down she lays what looks like, A piece of paper, But is much more. A picture it was, Of four smiling people, A man with black hair, one bald, A woman with blonde hair and man with bright red. They were smiling at the camera, Probably the last time they all cared, The woman lost in memory, Lets herself be led away. This was not just the lose of a friend, Or the loss of a partner, This was a greater loss, The loss of a savior. Author’s Note: Comments suggestions, whatever, email me.